


All Yours

by Hours_Gone_By



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers Generation One, Transformers – All Media Types
Genre: Crushes, Developing Relationship, Fandom Snowflake Challenge, First Date, Fluff, M/M, Matchmaking, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:55:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Wheeljack's pining over Mirage becomes too much, and Ratchet takes matters into his own hands.
Relationships: Wheeljack & Ratchet, Wheeljack/Mirage
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30
Collections: Fandom Snowflake Challenge





	All Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Fandom Snowflake Challenge 2021: Challenge #11 – Create a Fanwork](https://snowflake-challenge.dreamwidth.org/54255.html?page=3#comments).

Wheeljack stared longingly across the commissary, making Ratchet snort in annoyance and kick him under the table.

"Just go ask him out already!" Ratchet said in exasperation. "For Primus' sake, you're not a lovesick adolescent. Quit acting like one."

"C'mon, Ratch," Wheeljack protested. "It's Mirage. You've seen the mecha he's gone out with. I don't even rate."

"You don't know that," Ratchet countered. "What are you going to do? Pine? Send the mech a drink already!"

"I can't," Wheeljack said, moping. "I mean, what if he rejects it? What if it…makes things weird?"

"It's just a drink."

"It's not just a drink; it's what it means."

"Oh, for…" Ratchet gave up and put an order into the table, apparently, to Wheeljack's frozen horror, _sending a drink to Mirage_ on _Wheeljack's_ behalf.

"Ratchet!"

"Either way, you'll know," his friend said, ruthlessly unsympathetic.

"Ratchet…" Wheeljack whined and sank down in his seat.

"Oh, compile, would you?"

Wheeljack just put a hand over his optics. After a klik or so of wallowing in embarrassment, he heard Ratchet get up and say, "all yours."

Wheeljack didn't understand what he meant until he looked up and saw Mirage, holding a pale blue fizzing drink in a tall glass in one hand.

"May I sit?" Mirage asked, his harmonics layered with 'interest' and 'gratitude.'

"Yeah, sure!" Wheeljack exclaimed, sitting up straight. "I mean, yes."

Mirage smiled and took the seat Ratchet had just vacated. "Was Ratchet playing matchmaker?"

"Yeah," Wheeljack admitted. "Sorry?"

"Don't be. _Are_ you interested?"

"Well, yeah! I mean, look at you!" Wheeljack gestured at Mirage. "You're smart, you're good-looking, you've got absolutely," Wheeljack was flustered but still a fast thinker, and he saw Mirage's expression and quickly switched from 'fascinating tech' to "fantastic speed and skills. I just make stuff blow up."

"You do more than that," Mirage pointed out. "You also create new weapons and improved armour for us, and I know you helped refine high-grade production for us as well. I've always been interested in engineering, but I lack the skill. Any knowledge I have is theoretical, not practical."

Wheeljack might not be good at flirting, but engineering was something he knew backwards and forwards, inside and outside and sideways. Maybe a couple of extra dimensions, as well.

"Really? Was there anything you wanted to have explained?" Wheeljack could talk about engineering for _cycles_ – and had, at least a couple of times. "Or demonstrated? I, ah, really can make stuff that _doesn't_ blow up the first time."

"Why don't we finish our drinks first, and then move on to…demonstrations," Mirage suggested, and Wheeljack knew he didn't mean just engineering demonstrations.

Ratchet chose that moment to comm. ' _Told you.'_

_'Yeah, yeah, you're amazing,'_ Wheeljack shot back with good humour. ' _Thank you, and go away.'_

Ratchet's laughter sounded briefly before the transmission cut off.

"So," Wheeljack began, turning his attention back to Mirage. "Where do you want to start?"

* * *

Mirage turned out to be genuinely interested in Wheeljack's experiments. The engineer lost track of time while demonstrating engineering techniques and answering questions. (And, fine, maybe he lost track of the whole 'date' part of this too. Oops.) It was late, not quite midnight but not too far off, by the time he ran out of inventions to demo.

"Oh, heh," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his helm. "Guess it got kind of late. Didn't mean to keep you so long."

Mirage put a hand on Wheeljack's arm, and even a little embarrassed by how he'd let himself get distracted, Wheeljack couldn't help noticing how finely-crafted it was.

"I've not noticed the time passing by either," Mirage said with a warm smile. "May I walk you back to your quarters?"

Wheeljack hadn't had a date walk him back to his quarters in – uh, well, a long time. Actually, he hadn't had a date in a long time, either.

"Sure?"

Wheeljack kind of hated the way he sounded unsure, but Mirage just smiled and tucked his hand into the crook of Wheeljack's arm as they walked. The hallways were deserted since everyone was either in their quarters or working their shift. Wheeljack lived in the officer's quarters, even if he was still a junior one, and Mirage was quartered with the rest of Spec Ops, and Wheeljack didn't have clearance. He was curious about what they looked like, of course, but logic told him that they looked like regular quarters. Probably.

"Well, this is my door," Wheeljack said when they got there, suddenly feeling awkward again.

"So it is," Mirage agreed and turned to face Wheeljack, letting his hand slip down the engineer's arm to take Wheeljack's hand. "May I see you again, Wheeljack?"

Wheeljack immediately perked up. "Yeah! I mean, yes, I'd like that, Mirage. I'd like that a whole lot."

Mirage smiled serenely at him. "So would I. Perhaps evening fuel, tomorrow night? The commissary isn't exactly fine dining, I'm afraid, but – "

"No, that's fine," Wheeljack said quickly. "The commissary is fine. I can meet you there at the end of my shift?"

Mirage's smile broadened a little bit. "I shall be delighted."

Usually, when Wheeljack had a first date, he got asked for a kiss, which was always a little awkward because he didn't really like to pull back his blast mask. Even mecha who had seen him use the straw for drinking his energon sometimes asked. His hesitation had killed more than a few second dates, he was pretty sure. Mirage, though, Mirage did something Wheeljack'd only ever seen in movies and holo-dramas, bending to kiss Wheeljack's knuckles, gracefully but slowly enough Wheeljack could've said 'no' if he wanted.

He…really didn't want to say no to Mirage. Mirage even saw him safely into his quarters, though Wheeljack was more than capable of taking care of himself, waiting to leave until the doors closed. It had been a while since Wheeljack had had more than a hookup and Mirage – well, he was way more formal than Wheeljack was used to, but it was nice. Maybe it was just what Mirage was used to doing, being from the Towers and all, but Wheeljack liked the way it made him feel. Like Wheeljack already mattered to Mirage as more than just a casual interest.

Maybe he did.

* * *

Dinner in the commissary turned into a walk afterward. Sure, it wasn't like the base had the formal gardens Mirage would've had before, or even the parks Wheeljack was used to, but there were a couple rec areas. They made do. This date didn't get quite as late as their last one, but Wheeljack got walked home again, arm in arm with Mirage this time. He didn't ask for a kiss this time, either, so maybe he was waiting for Wheeljack to ask. Wheeljack…didn't want to take off his mask in the hallway, and he wasn't quite ready to ask Mirage in even if he wasn't quite sure why so he got another hand-kiss.

The third date was a few cycles later, thanks to work and the war, and that was the one where Wheeljack asked Mirage in. He'd tidied up and found a bottle of copper-flavoured coolant he'd forgotten he had. Probably not up to Tower-standards, but if Mirage wanted a Towers-type mech, he'd've gone for someone like Tracks, right?

Turned out, Mirage liked copper-flavoured coolant. At least, he found it acceptable. Wheeljack didn't have much in the way of furnishings. His desk had been joined by a workbench at some point, and things were a little cramped. But he still had a small couch, and Mirage didn't seem to mind being close enough their knees pressed together. Wheeljack didn't either, and the night wound up running late again.

"I suppose I should go," Mirage murmured reluctantly, joors after they'd first sat down together. The coolant had run out long ago.

"I mean, you don't have to," Wheeljack said, maybe a little quickly. "We can keep talking, or…or whatever."

Mirage quirked an optic ridge. "Which one are you inviting me for? Talking? Or…whatever?"

"Well, I mean, I don't know what you're interested in," Wheeljack said. "I mean, you haven't even asked to kiss me yet."

There was a brief pause while they looked at each other, then Mirage said slowly, "I think…we may have misunderstood each other. I would like to kiss you, but one in the Towers, it was proper for you to ask me to kiss you and not the other way around, and two, you never take off the mask. I thought, perhaps, it was either built-in or removing it made you uncomfortable. I didn't – I don't – want you to be uncomfortable, and that was another reason I waited for you to bring it up."

"Oh." Absently, Wheeljack traced the line of one of the scars that lay below his mask. "I was waiting for you to ask me, so – okay. Let's get back to that one. They're kind of connected. Yeah, I don't really like taking off the mask, but I mean, if you don't mind not – we can work around it."

"If it makes you more comfortable," Mirage said, carefully taking one of Wheeljack's hands, "I can work around it. But, perhaps we had best talk before I spend the night. I'd hate to have a worse misunderstanding than simply why one of us hasn't asked to kiss the other."

"Yeah, okay," Wheeljack said and squeezed Mirage's hand. "Think that's a good idea."

Towers courting etiquette was different from what Wheeljack was used to in many ways: for starters, it really deserved the term 'etiquette' since there were rules about how and when to do what. Mirage, on learning of the more casual dating Wheeljack was used to (which, honestly, was often just finding someone you liked enough to frag), was quite happy to ditch many of the strict rules.

He did still bring Wheeljack courting gifts, though. They weren't anything big or splashy – big and splashy was hard to find these days, and besides, Wheeljack wouldn't have known what to do with them – but they were appreciated. And Mirage did begin staying overnight, never asking Wheeljack to take off his mask, though he certainly wasn't shy about kissing Wheeljack anywhere else. Fine, maybe it was weird to be more willing to interface with someone than to show them your face, but Wheeljack couldn't exactly help the way he felt. It wasn't even that he worried about rejection because he knew by now that Mirage's attraction to him went far deeper than the physical. It was just, kind of, a habit to keep it on around other people. Was Mirage curious about what Wheeljack looked like underneath it? Probably, but if he was, he kept it to himself.

Mirage didn't move in, though he did keep quite a few things in Wheeljack's quarters, and the security system got upgraded. The Spec Ops mech was there a lot, after all. Wheeljack sure wasn't going to object. It was even nice just to have Mirage _there_ , sitting on the small couch and reading while Wheeljack worked on something at his workbench. It was comfortable, in a way Wheeljack hadn't experienced with – yeah, the term fit – a suitor before.

Wheeljack never made a conscious decision to retract his mask in front of Mirage. It just sort of happened. He didn't mind looking at the scarring underneath it himself. He had gotten used to the way it twisted one side of his mouth, but having it up was a habit. He did need to retract it for regular maintenance and one of those days just happened to be one where Mirage was coming over.

Wheeljack was in his little washracks, just barely big enough for two if they didn't mind being close (and he and Mirage didn't), peering into the mirror with his mask retracted. Nothing would heal the scarring save replacement with delicate parts and time they didn't have, but he had a gel he put on it regularly to keep it from getting brittle and cracking. Mirage let himself in with the code Wheeljack had given him and slipped into the washracks behind him.

"I just got off patrol, and I'm dusty. I'm going to shower," Mirage murmured, slipping an arm around Wheeljack and giving him a quick hug and a brief kiss on the side of the neck. "Join me?"

"Yeah," Wheeljack said without needing to think about it. "Just give me a klik."

Wheeljack saw Mirage smile lovingly at him in the mirror. "Good. Don't take long."

It took a few nano-kliks to sink in, but then Wheeljack realized that Mirage had seen his face – his scars – in the mirror and hadn't reacted. No pause, no staring, no questions, not even a twitch. Sure, he'd been looking in Wheeljack's optics, but he had to have seen the scars. They webbed over the entire lower half of Wheeljack's face; there was no way to avoid seeing them. Plus, Wheeljack knew what a guarded Mirage looked like, and he was sure his lover hadn't been hiding a reaction. Mirage had just –

"Are you coming in?" Mirage called out over the splash of cleanser.

Wheeljack could always reapply the gel. Ratchet kept telling him he should use it more often, after all.

"Yeah," Wheeljack said, stepping back from the mirror. "I'll be right there."

His mask stayed retracted.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
> 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> Author Responses: This author replies to comments. If you don't want a reply for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with "whisper," and I will appreciate it but not respond.


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